Tomorrow, Heero comes home.
That thought weighted heavily on Relena mind as she sat in the dark mindscape that took the place of her dreams, night after night. The week had passed in a blur, too much too soon. She'd thought she's have some time to rest, to regroup and to organize... just to figure out what she was going to do... but if she wasn't in Heero's distracting presence, the three were constantly nagging her.
Well, not so much the three, she amended mentally. Just the Jester lately. Shinigami never talked, and rarely stayed within Relena's line of sight. The Child had become more and more sullen, almost faded, he spoke less and less each passing day. Despite the knots of frustration he tied her in, she worried more and more for him lately.
The last words she'd gotten out of the odd street urchin had been a day ago.
The Jester was spinning around in the dreamscape, lucidly floating from thought to thought, chattering on about nothing and everything, lilting, annoying, and often oddly poetic.
"Where has Maid Quiet gone to,
Nodding her russet hood?"
The Jester had turned and focused on Relena. It was as if he was asking her personally.
"The winds that awakened the stars
Are blowing through my blood."
"O how could I be so calm
When she rose up to depart?"
"Now words that called up the lightning
Are hurtling through my heart." The Jester mimed a heart attack, falling dramatically across Relena's lap.
Relena had stared down at the spindly harlequin for a while before shaking her head in frustration. She pushed him off her lap. "I don't understand you at all."
The Child had then looked up at last, regarding her with dimmed blue eyes and a wry smirk. "He asken whendya get ta be such'cha bitch."
The Child had slipped back into his crouch, half his body draped tiredly over his tucked knees, while the Jester snorted his amusement and Relena voiced her anger. The Child hadn't responded at all since then. Not from her sweetest of phrases nor the darkest of jabs.
Even when he was talking to her, the crude and tactless Child infuriated her to no end. He refused to talk about Heero since that first day, much to her growing sense of both relief and guilt. When the subject was broached, he would simply glare at her and say. "I dun care wutcha do to me. But if ya start messen with HIS head, I will fin a way to keel ya. Slowly."
Her protests that she would never hurt Heero in a million years never seemed to sink in with the stubborn thing.
The Jester was no more easy to get along with, although of all of them, she perhaps liked him the most. He'd gone so far as to help her act more "normal" in front of the others.
"After all," he's said, "A mask of burning gold and violet eyes. It be still a mask and a marvelous joke besides. It will be amusing to see who gets the punchline first!"
He reminded her in some inexplicable way of Dorothy. His ribs, jibs and reminders helped her through daily life, balancing her, as Dorothy did, though perhaps not as fully.
Dorothy. Her best friend, her occasional lover, her consummate enemy. Just the name was a reminder of the mess waiting for her on the other side of Duo's body. She was still unsure of how she could leave, or even if she would survive it. How long could she live without a body? Could she even reenter her own?
Watching the news, it has lessened her sense of urgency. Things had calmed dramatically. Une had slipped into Relena's place at the peace talks with deft grace, and handled them with a keen minded calm and an eye for political agendas and trickery. They were proceeding smoothly in her absence.
And the last of the three? Relena slid a glance at the creature in question, and repressed a shudder. It was the dangerous one, but it seemed content to let her stay, or rather it completely ignored her as it did with the Jester and the Child.
Shinigami was perpetually, almost eerily silent, not to much as a growl or snort. It held a cool demeanor and silence that even Heero would have envied. Relena at times wondered if it even had vocal cords.
Though, Shinigami seemed to have just as many befuddling moodswings as the other two. Sometimes it would sit thumbing through the bible, or polishing the crucifix-shaped bayonet on the rifle, doing little more than smear the blood around its gleaming surface.
At those times those red eyes were intensely bright and focused. Even the Jester in his most foolish and daring moods would never go near the unformed creature then.
Others, it would just sit, and stare at it's hands for long hours at a time. As if seeing something Relena couldn't.
Life awake was no easier, she caught herself slipping too many times, nothing serious. But even with Duo's natural hyperactivity, even with the Jester's help, and even after she'd discovered that with effort, she could access some of his memories; she found that it was hard to BE him. She wasn't even quite sure when she began to really try.
Wufei no longer made "Duo" go home out of sympathy. Relena stayed at Heero's side night and day, minding his fever and his comfort, whispering to him quietly, soft words, encouragement and love. Duo's memories burbled up from time to time, something too strong even for the three to repress and hide from her.
Often when she'd gaze down at Heero's face, twisted by some fevered dream, it was often overlapped by a much younger face, with familiar blue eyes a long black hair, the Child, yet not the child. The younger, pained face was always accompanied by deep, terrible feelings of dread and despair. She was afraid to ask about it, but it still stirred her sympathy again.
Tom, who'd she'd come to know well during that week, had come in during one of those spells, and commented something along the lines of, "I've seen very few people this dedicated to their friends." He had smiled, his face resembling a tanned and cheerful Buddha. "You're really a nice person."
Relena had shaken her head, a confusion of emotions warring for dominance. "No. I'm not," she replied with sorrowful conviction. Tom had conspicuously avoided her since then.
After the fever had broken, the Child had done the inexplicable: he'd thanked her, deeply and heartfelt. She suspected it had something to do with the memories, but she could never be sure. Duo, in all of his aspects, confused her to no end.
She felt her body waking up again and with a sigh, took control again. She'd gotten no more answers this night than any others.
Just another stalemate in the war between what she wanted to do and what she should do.
"What are you dreaming about, Imoto-chan?" Zechs asked softly, looking down at his sister's too still face. "Good things? World peace? A life with Heero?"
He regarded her with a mixture of feelings. After the war, he'd gotten to know his sister a little bit better. Now he spent his shifts, musing over his sister, his own life, and the odd, baffling conversations with Wufei he had every night.
Neither truly understood the other, and freely admitted such, but the conversations each day for the past week, long or short, had the makings of the beginnings of if not an understanding, then tolerance that was previously absent. Friendship would only come, Zechs admitted to himself, after understanding. If it didn't, the friendship would be a shallow and fragile illusion.
Whereas things with Wufei were uncomfortable, but at the same time, inspiring hope in the young man, but his sister.....
He'd spent most of his life as a warrior. He didn't have the slightest idea of how to be a big brother. And big brother to the queen of the world? How do you reprimand her for foolishness? Ground her from paperwork? Tell her she had to be home from banquets by 11?
Zechs smiles slightly at the idea of her reactions, if he tried to do either. It might just be worth it. His smile slipped.
"When you wake up," he promised. "Until then, I'm taking care of things."
"As am I." Dorothy's refined voice called out. Zechs stiffened in his chair.
"Dorothy. Isn't it a little past visiting hours?" Zechs asked, his cloak of formality drawn carefully around him again.
"My dear Millardo. You sound as if you don't trust me?" Dorothy smiled cattily. "I'm surprised, after sharing such lovely memories."
"Zechs." He corrected, frowning slightly. He wasn't going to dignify her claim with a retort. "What are you doing here Dorothy?"
"I'm not allowed to check on the health of my friend?" She asked.
"There are visiting hours for that."
Dorothy smiled and curtsied slightly. "Foolish me. I'll be back later then." She disappeared without another word, leaving Zechs blinking.
"Why on earth did she give in so easily?" It didn't fit the Dorothy he knew so well during his .... dark.... period with the White Fang. Suddenly a dark, sinking suspicion uncurled within his stomach. He grabbed the alarm to the nurses station and depressed the buzzer.
When Dorothy arrived at the nurse's station, it was completely empty. It took her little time to surmise what had happened, as all the nurses were under orders that if any emergency came up involving Relena, they were to drop everything to attend.
She smiled to herself as she rummaged through one of the counters, her pristine silk gloves would ensure that her fingerprints wouldn't show up. Beyond that it was no more difficult than donning a white doctors overcoat, a lowbrimmed nurses hat to cover his distinctive eyebrows and eyes from the camera, and wrapping her hair up in a bun.
Besides, she was assured by Karla that the cameras would be experiencing technical difficulties anyway.
She located a small vial of clear, colorless fluid. The warnings on the label were sufficiently dire. She poked a needle through the thin rubber stopper on the vial and filled it with the fluid. Happy with the dosage, she put the vial away and looked towards the assorted IV bags.
Peacecraft. Dorothy touched the thin, cool plastic, drawing a finger along it's surface. Just a quick injection was all it would take. She held life and death, peace and war.
She smiled and made her choice, choosing the bag right beside it. Lubbock, Paul S. 500 ccs of pure ethanol mixed with the sugar water mix.
She regarded her handiwork as she disposed of the evidence. A wonderful brushstroke golden-tan now feathered the edges. She slipped out of the room and the hospital, unnoticed. Taking purposeful care to walk as if she owned the entire hospital. She'd long discovered that if you simply acted as if you belonged somewhere, people automatically assumed you did.
She pulled off her gloves and checked her dayplanner as she settled into the comfort of her golden limo. Light was already coloring the horizon heralding the dawn.
She smiled at a particular entry, detailing an appointment for tommorow evening. Now to add some blue to the mix.
"Lady Une! Une!" A swarm of reporters churned expectantly, filling the incredible gulf between the car she was chauffeured in and the safe entryway of the preventer headquarters. She sat behind the protective panes of bullet proof glass and steel doors, gathering her strength and courage.
Her job as Director had only gotten more hectic as small crisis after small crisis occurred. More and more signs pointed to affiliation between small terrorist acts and the Devolution. Keeping the media from picking it up and panicking the war-weary public has been difficult.
It would be all she'd need to have not only government and internal pressure to start strikes against the organization, but overwhelming outcry from the public as well. In an effort to solve this quietly, she had accepted Zechs' invitation to take Relena's place at the peace conferences, but the toll was wearing down even herself, who was so used to balancing tactics, diplomacy and publicity. She didn't know how Relena, so much younger, managed to do it day in and day out.
"Why does the walk always seem longer and longer lately?" She sighed, gathering herself up and putting on her best hard, business only face.
She signaled her driver and the door to her car opened. The reporters only gave her enough time to stand up completely before swarming and engulfing her in their midst.
"Lady Une, do the Preventers suspect Devolution in the attempted murder of Relena Peacecraft." One of the mass surged forward to ask, shoving a microphone under her nose. Une regarded the man coolly.
"The matter is still under investigation. The records will be available for the media to inspect AFTER it is concluded."
"Ms. Une," a female reporter asked, taking the place of the previous man. "What is your response to Karla Grey's accusations of the Preventers being an organization designed to oppress?"
"I would say that the idea of the Preventers being an organization of oppression would be impossible, even if it was our desire. We have no such power. We work under the authority of the Earth Sphere government."
"What do the Preventers plan to do about the Devolution?" A faceless voice called out. The number of microphones doubled and the crowd pressed in.
"We are hoping to come to a peaceful resolution of our differences," Une replied carefully. She was reluctant to allow them to start asking about the peace talks. They were delicate enough already.
"Is it true that the Devolution is planning warfare?" A reporter from the back of the amassing crowd shouted.
"I cannot speak for them. We have no such suspicions nor any evidence to point to that conclusion."
"Director, do you believe this to be a prelude to a repeat of the previous wars?"
"I certainly hope not." She said fervently. "It is our duty to prevent wars from breaking out again. We will not allow another to begin in this lifetime."
"Lady Une, what is your response to accusations that the Preventers have used illegal methods to secure their goals?"
"Preposterous." Lights from flash photography glinted off her glasses. "Our operatives are professionals."
"Professionals? Aren't they gundam pilots?" One asked skeptically. She had given up, trying to discern who was talking and when. Tried to forget them pressing against her in their eagerness for a story. Just concentrate on what to answer and how.
"There are no gundam pilots as there are no gundams." Une reminded them. It was little use how many times it was repeated, nor how much time passed; the five boys would always be under that bittersweet label forever, even if all the gundamium in all of space suddenly ran dry. "The EX-pilots are only a handful in an organization of hundreds. And yes, they are very professional and incredibly dedicated to their work. I will personally vouch for each and every one of them. Now, if you have no more questions I have work to attend to."
Une pushed through the crowd, her patience at an end. She would tolerate everything but attacks on her operatives, no matter how high or low they were in the organization. She dutifully ignored their outcries and protests, along with the cacophony of Lady Une! Lady Anne! Ms. Une! Ms. Director!
It was a long battle, pushing through a crowd so reluctant to let her go after she had made her daily mistake of trying to appease them, but at last she reached the cool, air-conditioned interior of the Headquarters. The two burly guards at the door kept the circus of media personalities at bay while another two greeted her as they ran the metal detector over her.
"They get worse every day. I'm sorry we can't do more about them Director." One apologized. Une gave him a small smile and waved away the apologies.
"It's all right Kuno san. A part of the job I guess." Kuno bowed slightly to her and backed off to return to his post. Instantly an aid took up the space at her elbow, rattling off situations, paperwork to be finished, matters to attend, and missions completed.
Une listened with patience as she walked, nodding or taking particular mental notes. A wry voice in the back of her mind, not for the first time, mused that people who complained about Duo have never met her staff.
"Oh! And Sally is waiting for you in your office. Something about a brunch appointment. Highly irregular, there was nothing like that scheduled for today. I don't know how you are going to fit it between your 9 o'clock meeting and the new batch of recruits you have to greet at 11 today. I can tell them..."
Une covered her alarm, recognizing the code in the aids unwitting babble. They had found something. She interrupted the flustered man.
"Don't worry about it Gerry, I'll see them as soon as I get in. Surely you can make a bit of time."
Her strong, brisk strides, intent on the relative quite of her office and the calming presence of the Chinese doctor, was interrupted by a loud beeping from her purse.
Une looked down at her pager and read the brief message labeled Urgent. Her shoulders slumped dramatically. Her exclamation startled the interns around her, who were so used to her unflagging eloquency and decorum.
"SHIT!"
Heero's release from the hospital that afternoon went without problem. Various nurses parted like the Red Sea before Moses. Rumors of the incredibly irritable and incredibly strong patient has spread quickly through the TriMercy Hospital staff.
After his fever had broken and the worst of the symptoms had subsided he had gotten more and more anxious to leave. It got to the point where nurses and doctors would draw straws to avoid taking his section of the wing.
Relena walked a few paces behind the rest of the boys absorbed in her own thoughts. She had come, at last, to a decision. Her conscious nagged at her about it a bit, but Heero's safety depending on her. There was no time for her own reservations.
She plastered a grin on her face and glomped onto Heero's arm as he walked into the waiting room. "Yatta! Maaa, it's about time they let you outta jail." She said, carefully making her language a bit more crude. Coupled with Duo's voice, it was an impressive imitation. Not one of the boys so much as blinked, merely gave different degrees of smiles.
Pure anger rolled up from within her. She was expecting that, but not to hear the Child's voice. As of yet, he'd either couldn't be bothered or hadn't worked up the strength to talk to her during the day.
/Wutcha think ya doen??!/
/I'm being you for a while./ She responded mentally, all the while keeping a steady flow of spoken nothings at everyone about everything. It was easier than she thought it would be.
/I been noticen that! I asken ya why!/
/It's the only way I can protect Heero./ She followed Wufei and Heero out to the hospital parking lot again. Nodding as Wufei mentioned that Quatre had invited them all over for a meal, especially since Heero had been living on a diet of questionable hospital mush.
/Wut'er ya on lady?! From wut?/
/The Devolutionists. It makes sense, if they go for me, they will go for the Preventers next. And the five of us are the strongest that the Preventers have./
Relena happily settled into the seat next to Heero, noting Heero's pretense of coldness, but the smile in his eyes. A faint, featherlight touch along her back, could have only been Heero's but was gone again before she as Duo could comment. She gave him what would only be considered a wicked wink.
Wufei, watching the exchange in the rearview mirror, pointedly rolled his eyes. "Can't you two wait until you get home?"
"Hn."
/Hn./ The Child echoed. /I knowen that. But wut ya think ya cen do that we cant'? We been protecting his back fer far longer'n ya./
/I know about the Devolutionists. I know Karla and how she works. Dorothy and I are probably the only two people outside of the top rings of her organization who can identify her. The one you see on TV is a figurehead. Not only that, I know where they are centered and the layout. With me in a coma, they wont be expecting anything we do. And the rest of the team will trust the info from "Duo" before they'll take info from "Relena"/
The Child was quiet for a moment. /I dun like it. How come ya can't jes tell me now and go away?/
/I've TOLD you, I can't just go away! I don't know how. So we might as well make the best of the situation, right?/
Frustration and reluctance welled up, but the Child's presence retreated. He'd already tried more than once to push her out, and many more times to usurp her presence as "dominant," but with little fruits for his efforts except more terrible, soul deep exhaustion. He shrank back to conserve his strength and wait.
Relena smiled to herself. She could turn her attention back to Heero now. She would do this for him.
Relena stared at the hotdogs set in front her, struggling to keep her feelings from showing on Duo's face. They were badly charred, and covered with an assortment of condiments from all over the world and colonies. It was a mess. It hardly looked edible.
Foreign foods, cultures and table manners from every tradition possible, she had memorized and could perform without hesitation or qualms. But what was on her plate was odd and vaguely obscene looking...
She wasn't sure if she was ready for hotdogs. A soft aura of irony and amusement burbled up under the surface of her mind. She gave a mental nod to the Jester. She was used to his presence.
She assumed it was Duo's favorite meal, as everyone else at the table had a different plate, as radically different in tastes as their personalities, whipped up by the kitchen staff at Quatre's home.
Though she was not so concerned about the others, she noted Heero's meal was the ideal of a balanced meal. A side of well done steak, crisp corns and greens on the side. None of the food on the plate touched, military style.
With an inaudible sigh, she turned back to her meal.
Apparently, they were used to Duo's appetite as well since there were a lot of those horrible Things. Unfortunately, her stomach was also reminding her that Duo's boundless energy had its price, and the piper wanted its payment.
The Jester's light tenor floated through her mind, wavering with barely repressed mirth /So, Ojosan, you want to learn how to eat a wiener?/
/You,/ Relena though sternly, forcibly repressing the flood of images that the Jester sent her way, /are a pervert./
/My deepest thanks! I do so try my hardest/
If she could have turned her back on him disdainfully, she would have. /I will do this on my own. Thank you./
/Oh great! Feathery pigs aloft! Watch them soar!/ The Jester snorted skeptically.
Relena picked up one of the hotdogs, and nibbled at it experimentally.
/Oh delicious irony, And I thought I was without eyes, but who now is blind?/
/What do you mean?/
/Look around, oh Queen of Swords; you are gathering more stares than your food is flies./
Sure enough, every eye at the table, was focused on "Duo," watching him with varying degrees of amusement and confusion. After a moment of light panic, she gathered her wits and decided on the Duo-ish thing to do in this situation: wrinkle her nose and stick out her tongue at everyone, before mentally gulping and chomping down into the hotdog with much gusto.
She promptly broke every etiquette rule that had ever been drilled into her, and started digging through her meal in record times.
The conversation, as it resumed, was light and easy, with simple banter and unladen silences that only long and true friends manage to achieve. It was something she had ached for. Not to worry about barbs and agendas. The simple freedoms that Duo, no all of them, took for granted. Relena, for all her whistfulness, kept her silence, busying herself with eating (and occasionally trying to steal real food from Heero's plate, much to the others' amusement.)
Trowa and Quatre offered to let them all stay the night, something Relena was grateful for, when everyone accepted it. Life in somewhere so familiar as the apartment Heero and Duo shared would be too risky still. She wasn't confident enough yet to try pulling this off in a place so laden with simple habits. In a foreign place, a little oddness can always be discounted.
Chewing thoughtfully on her fourth hotdog (she swore she would never touch another in her life by this point, with private horror, she noted that there were still five more on her plate and her stomach felt no where near full) she watched the others as they conversed lightly, bouncing form subject to subject, mostly lead by Quatre.
Wufei and Heero seemed much more relaxed now that they were outside the hospital. And would often contribute a few well chosen words to the conversation. A sure sign of good cheer. Trowa watched the proceedings with silent, sharp eyes, only speaking when spoken directly too, but his words, when he WAS prompted, were oddly eloquent, and always thoughtful.
But Quatre...
Relena noticed Quatre's eyes following her over the course dinner. He's often give her the same look at the hospital at the rare times when they'd pass in the halls. It was a puzzled, frustrated look that made Relena very worried. How much did the little blond know? How much COULD he know?
She caught his eyes on her again, and returned the stare with an obvious challenge in her eyes. Quatre flushed slightly and turned back to his mostly untouched food.
As the meal began to draw to a close, the Arabian pilot politely push aside his plate and excuse himself from the room, a troubled expression crossing his soft features. After a moment Trowa followed after.
Relena watched with faint apprehension, telling herself there's no way he could know. He's been with her for far less time than any of the other boys, that it was just her nerves.
Quatre hardly looked up when Trowa entered the room. His face was scrunched in frustrated concentration, and his fingers were massaging his temples with determination. Trowa approached silently but cautiously.
"I don't get it," Quatre sighed, finally looking up at Trowa. Trowa raised an eyebrow and sunk gracefully down onto the couch next to the blond boy. Gently he pushed Quatre's hands away from his temples and began kneading his shoulders. Trowa allowed himself a small smile as his lover melted under the ministrations of his strong hands. It was a moment before Quatre spoke up again. "Have you noticed something odd about Duo?"
"Besides the fact he looked at his hotdog like it was going to eat him instead?" Trowa asked, rare amusement coloring his voice. Quatre smiled despite himself.
"That's a part of it I think."
"Can you explain it?" Trowa asked. He was familiar with Quatre's feelings. Quatre had once described it too him as another sense, and explaining what he felt was often like explaining colors to the blind.
Quatre was always willing to try though. Only with Trowa did he feel comfortable enough to relate the true extent of what his uuchi no koroko told him. Despite Trowa's assurances to the contrary, he was certain that the others would think he was insane.
Trowa has patience in abundance though, and was willing to wait for Quatre to articulate whatever was weighting on his mind. More often than not, no matter how little it made sense at the time, the Arabian was right on the money.
"Duo..." Quatre started, staring at the carpet as if it held the answers. "Always felt a little different. Like there was more than one of him, at the same time, but all those parts really..... belonged. They all really had his... scent... I guess that's the best word."
"It's changed now?"
"Not... really, but it feels worse than that. That scent is still there, but over the past week, I've noticed it less and less. There's another one overlapping it, it's familiar too but... it's like a song I know I've heard but I can't remember the words."
Quatre smiled weakly and spread his hands in apology, noticing Trowa's confusion.
"I'm sorry, I can't explain it well."
"Is Duo in trouble?" Green eyes narrowed, protectiveness flaring up within.
"To be honest, I don't know. It's possible he's just changing, that whatever happened to make him what he was before is happening again. That's what I thought at first."
Both of them sat in silence, listening to the sound of dinner being finished and dishing being done in the other room. ("KISAMA Maxwell! You DON'T add that much soap! Do you want to flood the kitchen??" "Heheheh, sorry. Forgot." "
Quatre hesitated, his face showing indecision. Whatever he was going to say was interrupted by a small beep from his belt. Reflexively, he unhooked the beeper and read the message. He frowned.
"Code red, we are to meet at the Preventers headquarters 0800 hours tomorrow. Mission." They met each others eyes and agreement instantly passed between the two. This could wait, they weren't so far removed from the war, that the word Mission and its life or death importance was burned from their reflexes and subconscious.
Even Quatre, who was only working with the Preventers until he was legally of age to take full control of the Winner corporation, dedicated everything to that one word.
They stood up as one and walked into the kitchen to tell the others.
The news had sobered the group up. Conversation had died quickly as each of the warriors seemed to harden themselves. One by one, they had each drifted to their own rooms. Relena had followed Heero with a sense of dread and sneaking anticipation.
What had happened was at first, not what she had expected. Heero has simply sat behind her and unwove that thick braid that Duo sported, running a brush through the soft chestnut locks. Nothing more, nothing less.
The rhythm and feel of someone brushing her hair was somehow much more relaxing than when her attendants did it to her real body, back home. She felt her eyes sliding shut, and melting back into Heero with every gentle stroke of the brush.
She could feel the Perfect Soldier slipping away from his posture, now that there was privacy at long long last, revealing the boy who dwelt beneath the mask. She heart sung with joy at her first glimpse at him.
Relena hardly noticed the pang of jealousy under it all, preferring to think that it was one of the three's, than her own at the knowledge that Duo saw Heero this way all the time.
She felt his arms wrap around her body, and his chin settle on her shoulder. It didn't feel so much sensual as it was comforting. "I've missed you," he confessed into her ear.
"I've seen you every day silly." The arms around her squeezed gently for a moment, before relaxing.
"That's not what I meant." Heero turned her around, and before she could protest, he leaned forward.
As his lips met Duo's, her protests and reservations melted away, burning under the intense heat of two blue eyes, insistent lips, and a dream come true. Rationality was something that had no place there.
In the haze of her passion, she didn't notice Duo's complete and utter silence.
TBC
Notes: Quotes from Poe this time and his poem, Spirits of the Dead. (Last chapter had quotes from Maid Quiet and The Mask both by Yeats, gomen, we forgot to mention that at the time. Credit where it's due.)
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